A puff of warm air hit Warrick's face as the door swung open and he had to sigh and close his eyes and revel it for a few scant seconds. Perhaps he wouldn't be dying today after all. He opened his eyes, saw the man and the steel poker and reconsidered.

"...If you plan to bludgeon me to death, could you perhaps wait until I've got the feeling back in my limbs? It'll be much more effective then, promise." Hm...slurred vowels, no shivering. Not a very good sign, if he remembered his stages of hypothermia correctly. He looked hopefully past the stranger into the cabin. Was that a fire? Blankets, in a heap on the floor? God, what would he do for a blanket right now? Any number of entirely shameless things.

The wind dumped a fresh layer of snowflakes onto his head and Warrick blinked them from his eyelashes and offered a frozen approximation of a smile. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm p-perishing cold." Ah, there. A shudder. The blast of heat from the open door must be doing him some good. "Could I come in?"